I wonder whether it will pass…
wonder whether it’s a temporary state of hate and if it is the state of hate is it innate …
and is it just contemporary and is it just…
and I wonder what is its root cause and where I might find its roots stored…
is it circular or cyclical and does it shift and shape us as it plays us like harpsichords?
And I wonder whether this state of hate is rooted in some form of foul animus, and if it is I wonder if it is a form of fallen soul and wonder about former souls and forming falling souls and falling former souls and deep dark holes; enormous.
I remember being at the airport, long ago and we were waiting for somebody to arrive.
I can’t recall precisely, but I believe I’d arrived back from the East, the Far Faraway East.
My flight was early, and they’d come very early too because she had a prearranged appointment on that day. If I recall, she was leaving a job and I believe her home town too, can’t recall all too clearly.
It was rather a long time ago, and there’s mist; a lot of mistiness in the middle between where I am now and that day.
But I remember clearly that I’d gone to the loo and washed my face, hands and feet and then I’d brushed my teeth and gone back to where they were sitting, still waiting for her, and for me.
Heading towards where they were seated I saw a woman, a strikingly beautiful woman coming from the opposite direction, the direction of the airport’s entrance.
I was stopped and stunned by the woman’s intensely powerful beauty;
and then after a few seconds I realized that it was her, and that she was coming back from her prearranged meeting.
I never told her the story, of how I was struck by her striking beauty. I don’t know why. I guess I completely forgot – it slipped my mind, until today when I saw photos of her again, at a wedding and again I was struck by this person’s looks, not beauty this time, but an ugliness, a striking ugliness had overtaken her face.
The podgy and fudgy face, with nostrils like enormous dark cavernous slots across her cheeks reaching towards her ears, and she was smiling. On her head was a hat, it looked like the propeller of a helicopter, and the hat sat skew, to one side. There was something of a whale-likeness to her image, and I guess it must have been a layer of blubber beneath her skin that seemed to have oozed out over the years, slowly and settled on the outer layer as the fudgy podginess which dissolved the beauty and left its dark mark of ugliness, and just as it had been striking so many yester years ago, so striking it still is today, but oh, how unnerving, how deeply disturbing that a thing, a being of such powerful and intense beauty can transform over time into a thing of such utter ugliness…
And so I wonder about the ugliness of hate, of contempt and detestation and wonder whether it’s contagious, infectious and whether it can settle its hand so heavily and
play us like harpsichords so randomly?
Oh yea, I wonder don’t you?